


under a velvet sky

by onakissgodknows



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Chicago Cubs, M/M, Road Trips, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, dubious geographical knowledge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 07:30:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14711771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onakissgodknows/pseuds/onakissgodknows
Summary: The thing is, Kyle doesn’t want a soulmate. Or he doesn’t need one, or he doesn’t believe in them, or something.“Don’t run from it, kid, that’s all. Don't pretend it's not there."





	under a velvet sky

**Author's Note:**

> This is set between the beginning of the 2016 season (absolutely groundbreaking for me, I know) and the beginning of the 2017 season. 
> 
> It's a soulmate AU. That's all you really need to know.
> 
> Title is from "A Long and Happy Life" by Delta Rae.

Kyle has always felt bad for people whose soul marks are obvious.

It’s rude to ask anyone about their soul marks if they don’t readily offer up the information, but when you have someone like Kris Bryant in your clubhouse, it’s hard not to wonder. Kris’s soul mark starts on the right side of his chest and runs in huge letters all the way up the left side of his neck. “ _You’re gonna be a star_ ,” with the word “star” ending just under his left ear. Kris couldn’t hide it if he tried.

(Rizzo’s soul mark is much more subtle, spanning the space between his thumb and forefinger. He showed it to Kyle once when he caught Kyle trying to read it out of the corner of his eye. It says “ _well you already are one_.”)

Kyle’s grateful his is on the back of his right ankle, right over his Achilles tendon. God, it had burned when it first appeared, searing itself into his skin when he was fourteen, and with tears in his eyes Kyle had had to limp off the baseball field and beg his coach for the day off. 

It stopped hurting by the next day, and nowadays Kyle covers it easily with his socks or pant leg, and no one really looks at it or tries to read it.

Not that his soul mark does that much to identify the person it’s supposed to signify. _“I heard a lot about your changeup”_ is something Kyle hears with a certain amount of regularity, especially as he got older and started developing his secondary pitches more. He’s pretty sure his soulmate isn’t his college baseball coach, or the bullpen coach with the Texas Rangers, or Theo Epstein when he came over to the Cubs years ago.

He supposes so far nobody’s said it in those exact words, or it hasn’t been the first thing they’ve said to him.

It’s all right, though. With the soul mark where it is, he can tug his socks up and forget it’s there.

Still, when David Ross introduces him to one of the minor league catchers in spring training 2016, and the first words out of this guy’s mouth are “I heard a lot about your changeup,” it catches Kyle off-guard. He blinks several times, stammers over his words, and ends up saying something stupid, like “think you can handle it?”

At which point Willson Contreras kind of stops moving and looks at him with furrowed eyebrows, and Kyle’s heart jumps. What are you supposed to say when the person in front of you is supposed to be your soul mate? Neither of them know, so neither of them address it.

Kyle throws a bullpen with Willson catching. It goes well, considering how early it is in spring training and Kyle’s mind isn’t really on his pitches.

(He is, however, paying attention to his changeup.)

Wherever Willson’s soul mark is, it’s nowhere visible, at least not with all his catcher’s gear on. Clearly, they both got lucky in that regard.

Kyle lets warm water pour over him in the shower that night and for once, he turns his ankle out so he can see the mark. He wonders if the letters have gotten darker, or if it only appears that way because he’s so used to ignoring them.

The first time Kyle sees Willson with his shirt off in the clubhouse, he sees the words on the back of his left shoulder – _“think you can handle it?”_ – but he pretends he doesn’t. When Willson turns around, he almost catches Kyle looking, but Kyle turns away and gets out of the room before Willson can say anything.

The thing is, Kyle doesn’t want a soulmate. Or he doesn’t need one, or he doesn’t believe in them, or something. His parents both have soul marks (like everyone does), but they don’t correspond with each other, and they fell in love anyway. They’ve spent Kyle’s whole life mostly happy, at least as happy as any of his friends’ parents who married the person their soul mark told them to.

His best friend growing up got his soul mark the year before Kyle and married the girl he dated in high school. It took them until the week of their wedding to realize their soul marks were the first words they said to each other when they met in their junior high math class.

It worked out well enough for them, Kyle thinks, because they fell in love without worrying about what their soul marks meant, and by the time they figured it out they already loved each other. Kyle’s friend had always taken it as irrefutable proof that soul marks were there for a reason, that your soul mate was your one and only, and shook his head whenever Kyle said he didn’t care who his soul mate was.

“You will.”

The guys on the baseball teams Kyle played on always joked that it was probably some sports reporter, because none of them could figure out who else would ask about his changeup right off the bat, to the point that Kyle would get nervous talking to reporters he’d never met before, and then he just started trying to cover up his soul mark as often as he could so people would quit trying to figure it out.

By the time he’s twenty-six he’s starting to think maybe he lucked out and he won’t ever have to deal with this soulmate thing at all, then Willson Contreras shows up at spring training and says those words.

He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t know this dark-eyed catcher on the cusp of turning twenty-four, this passionate kid who plays like there’s a fire under him and then looks at Kyle like Kyle’s the one who lit it.

He could get to know Willson, sure, but soul marks are bullshit, and Kyle’s not going to entertain it.  

He tries not to feel relieved when Willson gets assigned to Triple A for the start of the season, but he can’t help it. It’s probably better this way, because there’s no way they can distract each other like this.

_Soul marks don’t have to be distracting_ , a voice in Kyle’s head reminds him nastily. _Look at Kris and Anthony._

It’s not the same when two people were obviously made for each other. Kris and Anthony would love each other, soul marks or not. Kyle and Willson wouldn’t look at each other twice if they passed on the street.

xxx

Willson is too good to stay at Triple A for long, and he’s up with the majors by the end of June. He hits a home run in his first at-bat and yeah, this kid isn’t going away.

So, the only way to go is politeness. Polite and formal. Let the guy know they aren’t going to be friends without making Willson think Kyle hates him.

Willson, to his credit, gets it, and he’s extraordinarily respectful of the boundaries Kyle sets. And that works, for a while.

It’s so hard not to want to be friends with Willson. He’s charismatic and friendly, and everyone in his orbit seems happier for being there. Kyle slowly allows himself to entertain the idea of being friends with him. At least if they’re in groups, Willson won’t expect they’re anything more, right?

One night it somehow shakes out that the two of them are the last people in the clubhouse, and Willson makes a beeline for Kyle like he’s been waiting for this.

“Look,” Willson says, throwing himself into the chair next to him. “I know it’s you. I know you know it.”

Kyle looks down at his right ankle. The soul mark is, as always, covered.

Willson sees where he’s looking. “I haven’t looked at your soul mark. I know ‘cause of mine.” Willson picks at his thumbnail. “I’m not gonna, like, ask you to….I don’t know. It’s not about that. It’s just…man, you gotta let me help you on the field.”

Kyle lifts his head to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“I come out to the mound and you look like you don’t wanna talk to me.”

On one hand, Kyle’s pretty sure he looks like that no matter who’s coming to the mound. On the other, he’s done his best to show Willson that he doesn’t hate him, and apparently it hasn’t worked. “Sorry,” Kyle says.

Willson waves him off. “It’s okay. If you don’t wanna deal with the soul marks that’s all right. I just wanna….” He goes quiet for a moment, then goes on, “I just wanna be as good as I can be for the team. If you don’t like me, I don’t know….do you wanna ask Maddon if he’ll put you with Miggy or Ross more?”

Kyle’s stomach lurches and his face burns red. “And lose your bat in the lineup?” He doesn’t know why, but the thought of never throwing to Willson again is upsetting.

“If you don’t like pitchin’ to me or talkin’ to me, then might be better anyway.”

“No, that’s – I don’t not like pitching to you.” Kyle’s face is on fire. He hates that he’s made his discomfort so obvious. “Willy, you’re really good. We can’t afford to kick you out of the lineup because I’m being an idiot.”

Willson grins at Kyle’s praise but still has a serious look in his eyes. “What do you want me to do, then?”

“Nothing,” Kyle says firmly. “Nothing you’re not already doing, it’s – I’m the problem. It’s the soul mate thing. I just don’t believe in that stuff, okay?”

“Right,” Willson says quickly. “I didn’t think you did.”

Kyle hadn’t noticed how tense his shoulders were, but he feels them relax as relief washes over him. “Good. Great.” He doesn’t think he’s ready to be his friend, but if there are no expectations that takes such a weight off. “Don’t change anything you’re doing, okay? I’ll do better.”

Willson smiles again. “Cool.” He stands up. “I like catching you, Kyle.”

Kyle’s stomach turns over again, like he was unprepared for the intimacy of his name on Willson’s lips. Willson looks at him with calm dark eyes like he knows exactly what Kyle’s feeling, but instead of saying anything else, he holds out his hand and lets Kyle shake it.

xxx

In some ways, it’s like they all knew, all season long, that this was their year to win it all. Curses aren’t real, but if they are, they’re made to be broken.

In the clubhouse immediately after, Kyle can’t even feel self-conscious about how long and how tight he hugs Willson. He deserves this. They both do, they _all_ do.  

The euphoria of the parade and all the celebration tapers off, leaving them with a quiet joy that no one can quite understand but each other. The day they clean out their lockers at Wrigley, someone puts on music, blasting in the background like they’re amping up for another big game.

Willson stops in front of Kyle on his way out. “Hey. Have a good winter.”

Kyle stops throwing things into his bag and looks up at him. He smiles. “Yeah, I will. You too, okay?”

Willson bumps his knuckles against Kyle’s. “Can’t wait for spring.”

Kyle laughs. He should be looking forward to rest, but yeah, he’s already ready for it to be spring too. “See you then.”

Willson leaves, and a few minutes later somebody else plops into the chair next to Kyle’s. “Mind some unsolicited advice?”

It’s David Ross. Kyle grins and sits up. “From you, Gramps? One last time.”

Ross takes off his sunglasses and rolls his eyes. “Not you too. I’m too young for this shit.”

Kyle laughs. “Rizzo’s a bad influence. What’s up?”

Ross swivels his chair back and forth. “I’m overstepping, so tell me to fuck off if you want, but it’s about Contreras.” Kyle immediately looks down at his ankle but before he can say anything Ross continues, “Oh, don’t freak out or anything, okay? Only reason I know is because I introduced you dumbasses, remember? Jesus, everybody thinks you’re so stoic, but when something catches you off guard like that, Kyle, you don’t hide it that well.” He drums his fingers on the arm of his chair. “Then I seen Contreras’s soul mark, so. Yeah.”

Kyle doesn’t know what to say, so he says “Okay.”

Ross’s eyes bore into him. “The two of you talked about this at all?”

Kyle shakes his head. The extent of their agreement regarding their soul marks is that they’re not going to talk about it.

“You might reconsider that.”

“Why?” Kyle asks, surprising himself with his bluntness. “Look, Rossy, no offense, but I don’t believe in this soulmate thing. Willson knows that.”

Ross laughs. “Even if you don’t doesn’t mean he doesn’t.”

Kyle frowns and considers how to answer him without sounding heartless. “If he does,” Kyle says carefully, “what – what obligation does that mean I have?”

“I don’t think anybody’s obligated to do anything, but you do have an obligation to the team,” Ross says sharply. “Which means you and Contreras need to work it out. Better for the team if you do.”

Willson’s going to be the everyday catcher next year no matter what happens, which means more often than not Kyle will be on the mound with Willson behind the plate. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Ross scratches the side of his face and Kyle catches glimpse of the soul mark on the back of his left hand – _are you talking to me?_ in neat capital letters. With a jolt, he realizes that the lettering matches the words that encircle Jon Lester’s left bicep. Kyle remembers that Lester’s mark says _hey asshole!_ and he stifles a laugh.  

“Hendricks, it doesn’t have to mean everything,” Ross finally says. “But it’s never going to mean nothing. The sooner you get that into your head the easier it’ll be.”

“I don’t like the universe telling me who I’m supposed to love,” Kyle says, a little irritably. That’s all it boils down to, really – some unseen force branding these words onto his skin, and telling him that the person who speaks them is supposed to be his soul mate, to love and to be with forever and ever amen? Fuck that. Kyle’s the only one in control of his own life, and if he doesn’t want a soul mate, he won’t have one.

“It’s not as simple as that,” Ross says. “It can mean as much or as little as you want it to.”

Kyle’s eyes drift to Ross’s soul mark again. Ross sees him looking and lifts his hand so Kyle can read the words. “We didn’t get along at first,” Ross says candidly. “Not ‘cause of the soul mark thing, just ‘cause – well, you know Jon and me.”

Kyle has seen Lester and Ross scream at each other like they never want to see each other again, and the next day crack each other up in the bullpen like nothing happened, so yeah, he gets it.

Ross seems like he’s choosing his words carefully. “I don’t think we expect anything from each other, but it is what it is. I think I give him the kick in the pants he needs when he needs it, and he also – you know, he helped me restart my career after the concussion shit, and that ain’t nothin’.”

Ross is Lester’s safety net. It’s easy to see how unhappy Lester is that Ross is retiring, and it’s easy to see Ross’s second thoughts. However, Kyle doesn’t get how this has to relate to him and Contreras, unless Ross just felt like oversharing (which is totally possible).

Ross continues. “You guys are the two who started Game 7 together, and you’re always gonna have that. That ain’t nothin’ either.”

Kyle sits for a moment, absorbing Ross’s words. “So…”

“Don’t run from it, kid, that’s all,” Ross finally says. “Don’t pretend it’s not there. Have you given him a chance?”

Kyle has never felt like he had a chance to give Willson. “No.”

“Let him know you, okay?” Ross says.

Kyle shouldn’t have a problem with that, right? He hasn’t meant to be distant. “Yeah, sure.”

Ross laughs. “Gonna miss you, professor.”

Kyle grins at him. “Still time to change your mind.”

Ross stands up and puts his sunglasses back on. “Already told Rizz I’d come heckle him at spring training. I’ll see you then.”

xxx

The offseason passes in the blink of an eye. It’s early February and Kyle is starting to think about heading down to Arizona, maybe getting to the facility a few days early, when he gets a text from Willson.

_I’m in California. Do u want to get together? Ok if not will see u in AZ_

Kyle can’t help smiling, for some reason.

He texts Willson back and lets him know where he is, gives him a couple of places they could meet up for lunch that week.

They set a date.

(It isn’t a date.)

Willson’s wearing a gray sweatshirt and black athletic pants. Kyle’s in a button-down and jeans. They’re at a cafe in Kyle’s hometown, and it feels kind of weird but it’s good to see him; Kyle hadn’t realized it would be, but it is.

Willson says he spent most of the offseason back home in Venezuela with his family trying to relax, but this is Willson and Kyle can tell he hasn’t slowed down at all. He laughs when Willson talks about waking up at 5:30 every morning to work out and practice his swing and his fielding, and Willson gives him a look like, _what, you don’t do that?_

Kyle tells him about his offseason, the weddings he went to and Christmas with his family, how it had been nice to recharge in the California sunshine, and the way his hands are itching to grip a baseball and start the new season.

Willson’s eyes sparkle with anticipation.

He has a nice smile.

Willson says he flew in a few days ago and he’s thinking about renting a car to drive the rest of the way to Mesa, because he hasn’t seen enough of the country. In the minors, when all they do is bus you around from place to place, there isn’t a lot of time for sight-seeing.

“Ever seen the Grand Canyon?” Kyle hears himself ask.

Willson shakes his head.

“It’s, like, seven or eight hours drive. Another four or so to get to Mesa from there.” Kyle’s surprised with himself.

Willson just looks at him, waiting for him to finish.

Kyle thinks about what Ross said, about letting Willson know him, and thinks it wouldn’t be bad to know Willson too. “We could go. Make a trip of it and do that on our way to spring training. I’d drive.”

Willson looks as surprised as Kyle is. “You want to?”

Kyle doesn’t know why, but he does. “Yeah. Yeah, it’d be fun. We could go the day before we have to be in Mesa. We’d have to get up early and we’d get to Mesa late, but we could make it work.”

Willson’s smile broadens. “I like getting up early.”

xxx

Kyle isn’t a very spontaneous person. He’s easygoing, sure, goes with the flow, but he’s not the type to take on a road trip on impulse. However, he’s about to be back on the daily grind of the game, so he has a routine set for him until October.

He can afford a little spontaneity today.

Kyle and Willson get on the road by four a.m., Kyle bleary-eyed and sleepy and wondering if this was actually a good idea, and Willson with two to-go cups of coffee, one of which he hands to Kyle. Kyle sips it gratefully.

The sun in front of them, they set out east. It’s just rising, and the world is gold.  

Willson is quieter than Kyle would have expected. Or maybe he’s just tired.

“Let me know if you need a break from driving,” Willson says after they’ve driven down the deserted early-morning highway in silence for awhile.

Kyle smiles. “I think I’m okay.” The sun is getting brighter, though, so he gestures to his glove department. “Can you hand me my sunglasses?” Willson does, and Kyle puts them on. He hears Willson stifling a laugh, so he glances at him. “What?”

“Nothin’,” Willson says, trying to bite back his grin. “Didn’t know you were so cool.”

Kyle laughs. “No one would ever call me that.”

Willson laughs, too, and leans over to switch on the radio without asking. He fiddles with it for a few minutes and then settles on a Spanish-language station. He raises his eyebrows at Kyle – it’s a question, and Kyle’s shrug is the answer. Kyle doesn’t always listen to music when he drives anyway, so Willson can pick what he likes.

Willson’s as animated with the radio as he is behind the plate. He leaves the station where it is for a few minutes, then starts flicking through the channels again before pausing on a country station. Again, he looks at Kyle like he’s checking for his reaction. Kyle grins. He reaches over and scans through until he finds something he thinks they’ll both like, a classic rock station Kyle’s been listening to since he was a teenager.

They’ll be out of range in an hour or two and have to find something new, but for now, this will do.

Willson’s fingers tap to the rhythm and Kyle’s not sure he knows he’s doing it.

Kyle had thought he’d feel tired, driving this early, but somehow he’s never felt more awake.

It’s probably the coffee.

Both of them are starving and need to stretch their legs a few hours in, so they pull off for breakfast at a diner and devour French toast dusted with powdered sugar like they haven’t eaten in days. Willson opts for fresh fruit instead of hash browns as a side, and Kyle almost wishes he had done the same.

He realizes they’ve never spent time together away from the field, and everything Willson does feels like one more thing he’s learning, one more bit of information he can tuck away in the Willson folder in his brain.

Knowing Willson, letting Willson know him doesn’t seem like it would be the worst thing in the world.

When they hit the road again Willson offers to take a shift at the wheel, but Kyle declines – politely, he hopes. He likes driving, and he likes driving with Willson next to him. He talks when Kyle’s in the mood to talk, and he’s quiet when Kyle’s quiet.

They reach the Grand Canyon a little after noon. Kyle hasn’t been here since he was a kid, and he’d forgotten that seeing it up close – not just from a plane window – is this kind of breathtaking. _Breathtaking_ is a word that sounds like an exaggeration, like something that can’t possibly happen in real life, but his breath catches in his chest and he has to pause, and this must be what they meant when they came up with that word.

“Wow,” he says stupidly.

“Wow,” Willson agrees, and he sounds even more amazed than Kyle. His eyes are wide, like he’s trying to take in all of it in one gulp.

The sun is directly overhead, but it’s still February 13th and Kyle zips his sweatshirt against the cool air. His sneakers are already turning brown from the dirt.

Willson darts off ahead of Kyle and is leaning over the rail to peer into the bottom of the canyon when Kyle catches up with him, eyes still wide and searching. Without really thinking about it, Kyle grabs him by the back of the shirt and pulls him back, just so he looks a little less like he’s about to topple headfirst into the canyon.

They’re hungry again and they’re near the visitor’s center, so they buy sandwiches and bottled water from the canteen. Kyle realizes too late that neither of them are particularly dressed for hiking, but maybe they’ll find a trail that isn’t too strenuous and won’t risk either of them twisting an ankle. He has a feeling the coaches would be livid if they turned up injured at spring training.

They eat at a picnic table with the sun still beating down on them. Kyle forgot sunscreen and hopes he doesn’t burn.

“I never seen anything like it,” Willson says. He’s spent most of the time they’ve spent eating glancing over at the canyon, still visible from where they’re sitting. Kyle can’t blame him; he’s been doing the same. “You said you been here before?”

Kyle nods. “Not for a long time.”

Willson’s still gazing off at the canyon. “Does it seem smaller now?”

Kyle thinks for a moment. “No,” he says. “If anything, bigger.” He thinks maybe his childhood memories couldn’t capture the enormity. This great expansive beauty that seems almost predesigned by some kind of higher power – Kyle can’t say what power it is, but something like this is too beautiful and too perfect to have been random.

The Grand Canyon is perfect even in its imperfections, Kyle learns as they’re making their way to one of the trails that’s marked as “easy” in the guidebooks, because there are already branches and thorns scratching at his ankles, and Willson seems to be avoiding them, so Willson laughs, and Kyle does too, wondering what _he_ did wrong to deserve this treatment from the wild plant life. 

The trail they choose isn’t difficult, but it is long, which seems like it makes less of a top choice for families with small children and more for serious hikers.

“Don’t get hurt,” Willson says as they embark. “Don’t wanna tell everybody at spring training you went and did somethin’ dangerous. Even though this was your idea.”

It was his idea, but Kyle hasn’t regretted a bit of it aside from the early start, and it’s been worth it despite that.

It feels like the perfect time of year to be here. It’s warm once they get moving, but even when the back of Kyle’s t-shirt is soaked in sweat, he doesn’t feel overheated. It isn’t like the muggy midsummer days in Chicago, when sometimes taking the mound, as much as he wants to do it, seems a nigh-impossible task given the temperature.

They stop for a breather and Kyle watches Willson wipe his brow and sip his water, and his heart jumps.

For as much time as they’re spending together today, they aren’t doing a lot of talking. It’s perfunctory conversation – _do you need to eat? Does this trail look okay to you? Watch out for that rock, don’t trip on it_ – but what’s going unsaid feels so much more important.

Kyle has never spent so long with Willson without thinking of the words on his ankle or the ones on Willson’s back. It’s not that they’re unimportant, it’s not that they don’t matter now, but for once maybe he’s looking at Willson as a person rather than as the soul mate he didn’t want.

They spend the day there, both of them reluctant to leave, but eventually their legs are screaming that they couldn’t possibly hike another step (and yeah, that’ll go over well tomorrow) and the sun is dipping lower in the sky. The world is gold once again, this time tinged Arizona red and framed by long twilight shadows.

They go back to the car, dragging their feet – maybe because they’re tired, maybe because they don’t want to go. But spring training starts tomorrow, and they’ve got a drive ahead of them.

They’ve gotten about a hundred miles down the highway when Kyle runs something over on the road and his car suddenly skids hard to the left. “Shit,” he mutters, instinctively throwing out an arm across Willson’s chest like a soccer mom with a van full of third-graders, and he carefully guides the car off the road and throws on the hazard lights.

The front driver’s side tire is flat – something big punctured it and the air is just gone. Kyle swears again, louder this time, and Willson gets out of the car and ambles over to him.

“How bad?” Willson asks.

Kyle kicks at the tire and sits down on the pavement. “Well,” he says, “I’m thinking we’re not getting to Mesa until morning.” It’s not a huge deal, a replacement tire is an easy fix, but any tire shop is going to be closed by now. It’s nearing 8:30, and the sun has almost completely disappeared over the horizon.

Willson sits down next to him. “You don’t got a spare?”

“Not one that I should drive on the whole rest of the way.” They’re looking at least at another two and a half hours on the road.

Willson makes a sympathetic noise. “Anything I can do?”

Kyle shakes his head. “It’s my car. I’ll get us a tow, and we can get to the nearest city, I guess.” He needs to let somebody in the Cubs front office know, too. He feels like a kid trying to decide which teacher is best to tell about his fuck-up, who’s going to go easiest on him.

David Ross joined the front office in a special assistant role over the offseason. If anybody will give Kyle a break, it’ll be him.

From the side of the road, Kyle calls the tow company, his insurance agent, and then David Ross.

“What?” Ross asks when he answers.

“Good to talk to you, too, Rossy.”

“How’s it going, Hendricks? You in Mesa now?”

Kyle laughs. “Uh. We’re sort of on the way.” He explains the situation – it’s a flat tire, and they’re sort of stuck until they can get the tire replaced.

Ross is quiet for a moment after Kyle finishes talking. “You’re with who now?”

He figured that would be what Ross latched onto. “Contreras.”

“Both you idiots are supposed to be here at 9 tomorrow.” His voice is accusatory now.

“I know,” Kyle says, almost a whine. “It’s my fault, though, okay, don’t blame Contreras. It was my idea, any fallout should go on me.”

“Calm down, kid, before you have an aneurysm,” Ross says, though Kyle knows his tone has barely changed at all. Ross sounds amused when he asks, “Got a place you can stay tonight?”

“We’ll get a motel or whatever.”

Ross laughs. He’s not saying anything about the soul marks, but he’s thinking about it. He has to be. “I feel like there’s a story here you’re gonna have to tell me, buddy.” Ross heaves a sigh. “Look, I’ll do you a favor and you’re gonna owe me, okay, Hendricks? Text me where you end up staying. Both your asses be ready to go at 7 a.m. tomorrow and I’ll come pick you up. We’ll get you to Mesa in time and you can worry about your car later.”

Relief washes over Kyle. “Great. Thanks, Ross. I do owe you, big time.”

“I know you do,” Ross says, and then, “Hendricks?”

“Yeah?”

“Proud of you.”

Kyle flushes red. “Shut up. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Ross is laughing when Kyle hangs up.

He turns back to Willson, who is still sitting on the pavement, his face tilted up to the sky. Kyle sits down next to him again. “Tow’s on the way,” he says, crossing his legs. “Cab, too, they’ll take us into town, and we can stay at some shitty motel.”

Willson nods. “Sorry this happened. You okay?”

Kyle laughs. It’s not really how he wanted the day to end, but it’s okay. It’s just a flat, and it’s certainly not Willson’s fault. “Yeah, I mean, it’s annoying, but…” Today’s been worth it.

Willson grins at him in the darkness and leans over to knock his shoulder against Kyle’s. “Look up.” He points.

The deep blue sky is dotted all over with bright stars that make Kyle’s heart stand still. “Do you see Orion’s belt?” It’s the only constellation Kyle knows how to find easily.

Willson shakes his head. “Man, in all this, how you finding just one?”

Kyle smiles. “Give me your arm.” He takes Willson’s wrist and lifts it, because someone else has possessed his body and he doesn’t know what he’s thinking. He doesn’t do this, but he does it anyway. “Point.”

Willson points, and Kyle guides his hand to aim directly at the three stars that make up Orion’s belt. “Right there. See?”

Willson grins. “Yeah.”

Kyle lets go of his wrist. “Well, there you go.”

Willson lowers his arm and turns his face to Kyle’s. His dark eyes reflect the sky and the world around them stops.

Only for a moment, because the tow truck arrives.

They get into town, get a motel room, and buy dinner from a fast food place across the parking lot. They eat in their room, both of them cross-legged on the ugly motel comforters with a breeze drifting in from the windows Kyle had to open to air out the musty-smelling room.

This has been, Kyle concludes as he watches Willson finish a hamburger on a hotel bed across from his, one of the weirdest days of his life.

And longest.

Kyle collapses onto his back. “Shit, man, I’m beat.” He still needs to shower, or he won’t get to until after training tomorrow, and that’s not ideal for him or anyone who has the misfortune of being around him. He waves a hand in Willson’s direction. “I know we both need to use the bathroom, but if you want to shower first, go ahead. I’m gonna close my eyes for a minute.”

Willson laughs. “I’ll wake you up when I get out.” Like he knows there’s no way Kyle’s going to stay awake.

Kyle does drift off, and he wakes up again when Willson taps him hard on the shoulder.

He’s shirtless, only wearing a pair of boxers, and there are water droplets on his neck and chest. Kyle swallows hard and tries not to look.

(He’s seen Willson wearing less than this, all the time in the locker room, and it shouldn’t be different but it is because no one else is here.)

“Your turn,” Willson says with the ghost of a smile flashing across his face, and he turns and saunters back to his bed. Kyle reads the words on his shoulder again, as if he doesn’t know what it says – _think you can handle it?_ There’s irony there Kyle’s too tired to work out, but his own words are mocking him and Kyle hates it and Kyle loves it. He still never asked for this.

Willson throws himself onto his mattress and turns on the TV. Kyle grabs his toiletries kit and heads for the bathroom, where there doesn’t seem to be much hot water left, so Kyle’s shower is lukewarm at best but he finds he doesn’t care.

He thinks about coming out of the bathroom without a shirt on (just to give Willson a taste of his own medicine) but his face warms at the thought and no, no, they’re not in a locker room and it _is_ different and Kyle’s not doing it. The t-shirt he puts on sticks to his damp skin, anyway.

He walks back into the room, and Willson’s still wearing _that_ , but Kyle’s not going to let that get to him at all.

Kyle’s packing his toiletries back into his bag when Willson comes over to him. “Hey.”

Kyle stands up straight. “Hey.”

“Wanted to say I had fun today. Even with the car problems.”

Willson is literally inches from Kyle, and Kyle can feel the heat from his skin. He knows, right? He has to know. “Yeah, I did too.” It’s the most honest thing Kyle’s ever said. He had fun today – fun may be an understatement – even though he blew a tire, even though they’re practically late for spring training, even though he never wanted a soul mate and has willingly spent close to twenty hours and counting with him.

Willson clears his throat. “My favorite part of today was Orion’s belt.”

Willson can’t just say things like that, that honest and casual, he can’t say that his favorite part of the day – after he marveled over the Grand Canyon – he can’t say that he preferred the part when he and Kyle were sitting on the gravel and Kyle grabbed his hand to point at a stupid constellation that anybody can find in any sky.

Enormity is crashing down on Kyle, something great and expansive, and yet it’s centered on only the two of them.

His heart is so wide.

He leans in and kisses Willson before he can lose the nerve. It’s just like when he grabbed his wrist on the side of the road, it’s like he’s not quite himself but at the same time it’s all him, this impulsive version of him that dove headfirst into this, in the diner when he suggested this trip in the first place.

Willson’s skin is hot under Kyle’s hands – he doesn’t remember grabbing Willson by the waist, but he did. Willson’s hand is on the back of his neck, and his tongue is in his mouth.

When they come up for air, Kyle feels like a fundamentally changed person.

“Hey, this isn’t just because you’ve got the soul mark thing,” Kyle says, because Willson needs to know that.

Willson smirks all over his face. “I know it’s not. I’m glad it’s not.”

Kyle frowns, kind of wants to kiss him again but doesn’t. “It’s not for you with me, either, is it?”

“No,” Willson says cheerfully, still grinning like he’s on top of the world. “I’d like you either way.”

Kyle does kiss him again then, though his mind is racing. “You know,” he says when he pulls away again, “I don’t know why I asked you to road trip to the Grand Canyon with me, but I’m really fucking glad I did.”

Willson looks like he could burst. “Me too. Also Orion’s belt isn’t my favorite part anymore, it’s this.”

Kyle laughs. “It’s this shitty motel, huh?”

“Yes,” Willson agrees, and kisses him again, lightly, on the lips.

Kyle’s still processing. He glances at the clock. “Shit, you know Rossy’s picking us up in seven hours.”

“Yeah.” Willson lets go of him, and even though it’s the right thing to do, Kyle’s sorry. “I know you’re tired.”

It’s midnight on February 14th. It’s Valentine’s Day and his Valentine’s Day started with him kissing his fucking soul mate, the one he didn’t want and refused to acknowledge.

God, is Ross going to laugh when he tells him.

Kyle gets into bed. Willson’s watching him from across the room, his eyes soft, and Kyle can’t help laughing. Not at Willson. He thinks he’s laughing because he’s happy.

“I’m still not totally on board with the soul mate thing,” Kyle says to Willson, just so he knows.

“I figured.”

“But we can see what happens.”

Willson’s smile lights up his whole face. “I’d like that. ‘Night, Kyle.”

Kyle closes his eyes, feeling his heart beat steady in his chest. He’d thought he’d be nervous, heart-pounding palms-sweaty nervous, but he isn’t. Instead it just feels right.

**Author's Note:**

> Also I've never been to the Grand Canyon and I feel like it shows, yikes. Yell at me about it in the comments or on [tumblr](https://on-a-kiss-god-knows.tumblr.com/).


End file.
